Brionglóid
by freedomatthesea
Summary: Sometimes its hard to tell the difference between life's dreamlike qualities or the nightmares of the mind.


"Would you stop trying to move, lass." Killian caught her jaw, his eyes narrowing as she smirked.

"Why?" Emma pushed him against the chest playfully, not really in an attempt to dislodge him from where he stood. Her eyes met his, marveling at the swirling desire that misted his blue eyes. Giving in to his attentions and the attraction she had held for him, had been one of the best decisions she had ever made.

"Because-" Killian decided words wouldn't suit actually acting upon his desire in the moment. He leaned in and kissed her, her gasp of surprise caught between her lips as he buried his fingers in her blond hair.

Emma mumbled against his lips, speaking little fragments of her words as his lips broke from hers to turn another direction. "I-…Was…_Killian_." He was pressing her into the refrigerator now and she wasn't quite ready to complain about it.

"Was what?" The pirate pulled back to look down at her, his eyes flickering back down to her lips.

"I'm trying to make breakfast." Emma put her hands firmly on each of his shoulders, "Stop."

"Just one more kiss?" Killian dipped in to kiss her again, giving her a cheeky grin as he pulled back. "Continue on with breakfast, love, I'm hungry."

"And here I was thinking having someone from another land would make him less of a typical man."

Killian leaned against the kitchen counter, silently admiring Emma as she shuffled around the kitchen. Toast in the toaster, bacon on the stove, eggs in the microwave, and coffee percolating. They were all surreal for him, items in this new life that she was slowly starting to teach him about. But they were the first real tangible aspects in his life that he had had in nearly three hundred years. He had denied himself so much in his quest to defeat Rumplestiltksin, denying himself the pleasures of another person's touch, the warmth of someone you cared for curling their arms around you in the early hours of the morning.

Those were parts of this new life that he could never do without now.

* * *

"You're very lucky that I called today off at work," Emma rolled over in his arms, trying to keep close to him and at the same time avoid falling off of the sofa. "I'm not normally able to go back to bed before noon, this is nice.

"So there is a perk to your father working with you." Killian chuckled, burying his face in her hair, and exhaling heavily. "That was a lovely…_breakfast_."

"We barely ate anything." Emma laughed, covering her face as she felt her cheeks tint red. She looked between her fingers, sizing up how much food they'd wasted. The toast was half eaten, most of the bacon was gone, and _all_ of the coffee had been drunk – you didn't just waste coffee this early in the morning.

Killian kissed the crown of her head, "We'll have to eat something later. I'm far too tired to get up right now." He mumbled as he shifted around to get more comfortable. He slung his arm over her waist, tugging the blanket up a little further over her bare skin.

"Did you not sleep at all last night?"

"I had nightmares," Killian muttered, not wanting to divulge the nature of those nightmares. They were stories for another day, if even then.

Emma stroked her fingers over his bare arm, taking in the peaceful expression on his face. His calmness was something so drastically different from how he had been when she had first met him. "You have no idea how thankful I am that you chose to avoid Cora once you came Storybrooke." Otherwise, none of this would have happened for them.

"I was tired of being her pet." Killian yawned and stretched out his legs. "But now I'm just tired general. I think I'm going to nap for a little; I'll see you when I wake up." Killian fell silent for a few long moments, before he spoke again, "I thought you'd never learn to trust me, love." His arms curled around her tightly, not wanting to lose her as he slept.

He had earned not only her trust, but her love. A line they'd been teetering on for the past few weeks. "I love you Killian." Emma whispered, a soft smile spreading over her lips as she heard the faintest snore come from behind her. She was a little too late for him to hear those words for the first time, but she knew there would be time say them again.

* * *

"Call it." Whale ordered mournfully, turning to look over his shoulder as he saw Emma Swan rushing in. "There's nothing that can be done Emma."

"Time of death," The nurse glanced at the clock. "Eight fifteen."

"But there's always _something_ that can be done. You said there was no chance for Henry and-" Emma stilled as her eyes fell on his body, his shirt ripped open to reveal his bloodied chest, road-burned and lacerated from the glass that had pierced his skin. His face – still – stained with blood and marred horribly from the impact of pavement to flesh. "He can't be dead."

"With Henry there was _magic_ involved with his near death." Whale nodded towards Killian's body, "But he was killed by nature."

"There's nothing _natural_ about a car running him over!" She shouted, loud enough that Whale looked inclined to call for someone to restrain her. The Sheriff's break in resolve was unnerving. "He's not dead! He's _not_!"

"Emma, I'm sorry."

"No." Emma walked slowly towards the hospital bed, trembling fingers reaching out to trace along the ridge of his jaw. He was cold. _Icy_ cold. "Killian..?" She shouldn't have been responding this strongly to the pirate's death. They were nothing – they were done. He had said it himself. But he had awakened things inside of her that had made her scared – made her say things she would now forever regret.

"Emma, there's a few protocol we need to finish up. If you'll excuse us?"

She nodded slowly, his words not really sinking in. "I'm sorry Killian. I was too late. Too late to just trust." Tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped them away quickly, standing upright. "Of course Doctor Whale, I'm going now." She pulled herself away from the bed, taking one last glance to take him in. One last look.

_Pull yourself together Swan you're being an idiot. There was nothing between you two. Nothing._

"Emma?"

* * *

**A/N:** And with that, I leave you with this: There will be no part two, no sequel, no answers given. This is purely up to you to interpret. Did he live? How? Was it Whale? Who spoke? What was the dream?


End file.
